Steely Hospitality The Outsiders
by NoGoodHood
Summary: Kicked out after an encounter with the fuzz at a local party, a kid is left in the lonesome on the streets of Tulsa, Oklahoma. After an incident with a Soc and a switchblade, our protagonist is toted to the Curtis household and offered a place to bed down for a bit. Making friends with the classic gang is hard, so it only makes the prospect of hanging around the house even worse.


Chilling rain pattered uncomfortably against the fabric of my jacket. My dark, sheared short hair was curled by the dampness and hung in curled wisps over my forehead, and my glasses were misted over with it. I could hardly see.

It was freezing outside, yet there I was - walking alone. I hadn't been to this part of town before, so it was all new, but I was all-too-aware of the ragged split in society. And I was all-too-aware of which category I fell in. My countenance was the practical epitome of paranoia, yet I hadn't been scanning the vicinity of my surroundings,

I pulled my jacket tighter around me, candy-green optics trained on the close brick wall of a nearby building. I hadn't been looking at the road at all. What a mistake.

Before I could even react to the slap of shoes against the rain-covered pavement, the feeling of someone twisting their hand in my hair was suddenly present and I was shoved against the wall. I managed to hurriedly turn my head so I didn't get my face broken but the rough bricks scored a dark scrape against my cheekbone and I could feel the bow of my glasses snap.

The sudden contact elicited a shrill yelp, but I couldn't turn my head enough to see the attackers. And then a smug voice sounded.

"What do we have here? A greaser boy? Haven't seen you around before," the voice sneered unpleasantly in my ear. I winced. He wasn't completely wrong - I know I looked like a boy, but I wasn't. I was still new around here, though.

Instead of answering, I strained against his grip desperately. The soft snicker that I heard at my struggles only angered me even more.

A soft click sounded and then something cold and sharp pressed against the back of my neck. This idiot had a goddamn switch on me.

"Alright, kid, how about we carve a nice little brand on you? Does 'grease' sound good? Great."

I flinched at that and immediately froze in my struggles, yet pressure increased until I felt something hot drip down my neck.

A shrill shriek escaped me at that.

A few more moments of searing pain and my own choked, desperate shouts dragged on before footsteps sounded, eliciting another panicked, cursory yell from me, but the assailant hissed a curse word under his breath and quickly released his grip and ran, shoes slapping against the pavement loudly.

I crumpled to the ground at the sudden lax but caught myself on my hands, earning a few more scrapes on my palms. Scarlet blood was dripping down my cheek from the previous abrasion, mixing with the rain to a sickening pinkish color.

I was stationary for a couple moments before I remembered the interruption and quickly scrambled to turn around and face the new arrivals, my expression the epitome of terror.

"You better run-!" the person hollered after the assailant before turning back to me. His voice had a familiar drawl, although I couldn't really place it. I was probably shaking and I knew I looked like an absolute mess, blood trailing down my face and neck, staining the collar of my dark jacket a nasty rust color.

This person was DEFINITELY way taller than me and quite a bit scarier. But he hunched over, offering a hand to help me up. I hesitated at first before ignoring the outstretched offer and standing up myself.

He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You okay?"

I nodded shakily, averting my gaze. I was barely up to this guys shoulder and it was awfully inconvenient.

"Y'don't talk much," he commented under his breath. "No matter, though. Listen. What the hell were you doing out here on 'yer own?"

Still silence. I simply shrugged, eyes trained on the ground. Blood continued to drip from my cheek and rhythmically hit the pavement, scrape still burning.

There was a couple moments of timorous silence before the person huffed frustratedly and grabbed my shoulder with an unintentionally vice-like grip, beginning to shove me towards a house. "Come on, you should get yourself cleaned up. My name's Dally."

That contact seemed to snap me back to reality as I stumbled forward and briskly turned to face him.

"Wh- No, why? Where?" I stammered out a barrage of questions, wiping blood off my face with the sleeve of my jacket.

"Darry's place," he pointed out, as if I would know who it was. Then he took my shoulder again and kept ushering me forward. "Come on, kid. You're bleeding all over the damn place - let's GO."

I was hesitant for a moment longer before reluctantly moving, casting an uncomfortable glance back at him. "Who's that..?"

Dally looked down at me disbelievingly, eyebrows raised slightly. "Y'don't know who Darry is?" When I shook my head in response, he continued. "Where've you been for the last ten years? Damn. Anyways, I'll introduce you to 'em when we get there, 'cause the boys should be there too."

The boys? Nervous, I shifted my gaze back to the sidewalk ahead as I was rushed along. What a shitty situation.

I had no interest to meet whoever he intended me to, but I really had nowhere to go at this point and I was bleeding all over the place, so why not? I reached a shaking hand up to adjust my glasses, but alas - they practically fell apart in my hands. I gave a clipped huff, just shoving them into my now-bloodied jacket and trying not to cry.

Apparently my 'escort' noticed my mood and tried to lighten it. "So, uh, where have you been? We don't get any other grease girls down here other than hookers and prostitutes. And you sure as hell don't look like one'a those."

I just shrugged and looked away. Everything was blurry now that I didn't have my glasses, and I was close to crying too. I could already tell I wasn't gonna like this guy.

"Alright, not one for conversation then," he muttered under his breath, fishing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. I ignored it.

He lit the cigarette promptly, using his hand as a windbreaker, before casting a glance over at me. "D'you smoke?"

I nodded simply.

"Want one?"

I could really have used a cigarette at that point, but I shook my head no anyways. He shrugged and stuck the pack back in his jacket pocket and peered over at me. The back of my neck still stung something fierce and I knew he could tell.

Before I could really react, Dallas reached over and wiped the blood off the back of my neck with his jacket sleeve. I winced with a sharp inhale at the sudden burning pain but forced myself to ignore it for the most part.

He didn't seem to notice my reaction. Either that or he didn't care. Most likely the latter, because when I looked up, his jaw was taut with anger.

"The asshole carved something in your neck," he grit, retracting his hand and shoving it in his pocket. "Carved 'grease' into it 'fore I got there. I should've been there sooner. Darry told me to hurry."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Uh, what?" I choked out before cursing myself silently. Real intelligent response. "Um. Don't worry about it. Doesn't hurt at all. Hell, you barely even know me, so- so never you mind." That was probably the longest thing I'd said to him since we'd met and he looked a bit taken aback.

"..Whatever. Listen, we're here. You ready 'n all that? 'Cause there's gonna be a bunch of people in there."

I hesitated for a moment before shifting my gaze to the ground and nodding. I really wasn't, but this was probably one of the only things I wasn't willing to procrastinate on - I just wanted to get it over with.

"Alright, c'mon then," he mumbled. He took hold of my shoulder again, much to my disdain, and began ushering me forward towards the door. I didn't protest, just reluctantly complied. I hated being touched.

When he opened it up and motioned for me to enter, I hesitated yet again. And then, with a frustrated huff, he grabbed the collar of my jacket and just shoved me inside before stepping in himself and shutting the door.

I immediately regretted the decision. There had to be at least seven people in there, and they all looked up at my arrival.

Before anyone could ask any questions, Dally spoke up loudly. I cringed at the volume. "Found the kid who was yelling. Poor girl had a Soc with a switch on her when I got there. Carved something into the back of 'er neck." He patted my back harshly, eliciting a small wince, and continued. "Bleeding all over the damn place, though. Poor kid." He turned to face me and pointed towards another room. "Bathroom's right in there - you should clean yourself up."

I nodded nervously and waved a small hello at the people gathered in the living room. They were all seated either on the ground or in threadbare chairs around a coffee table, playing cards. After aforementioned observation, I simply walked to the room, movements stiff but brisk. Yeah, I was nervous as all hell.

They didn't seem to notice, though. Or care. But as I quickly stepped into the room and shut the door, hushed noise erupted. I couldn't make out any words, but I was sure they were talking about me. Some shaky little kid that Dally brought home; who wouldn't gossip about that? I wonder if he does this all the time.

I blocked out the noises and set to getting a paper towel and dampening it in the sink, flinching at the loud noise the water made as it hit the porcelain. I doubted they would hear, but it just made me anxious, so I completed the rudimentary task as quickly as I could.

With a wavering sigh, I braced myself for a moment then pressed the dampened down against the dark streak across my cheek. It stung something fierce for a moment but then eventually numbed into a dull burn. I gently wiped away what blood had withstood the rain.

Now the more difficult part.

I couldn't see the back of my neck, obviously, but I could tell where the impromptu brand was. And I knew there was going to be blood all down the back of my neck. So I reached behind me and started blotting at it, choking down a yelp at the pain it sent shooting up my neck. Eventually in numbed just as the scrape did, and once I was certain all the blood was gone, I balled up the now scarlet paper towel and threw it away.

Once the rather grisly process was completed and I was assured the wounds were shallow and wouldn't need bandaging, I fished a small bandaid of my own from my pocket. Pastel pink in color. It'd look real tough for sure.

I used it to carefully bind the nose of my glasses together and slip them back on - good as new. Sort of.

I gave myself a couple minutes to recuperate and gather myself to prepare for going out, where I would most certainly be greeted with a barrage of questions. I doubted my voice to the point where I was sure that all I would be able to manage was a short response, probably choked out.

After that, I straightened my jacket and my hair, and opened the door. Everyone automatically looked up to face me as if they had been expecting my arrival and I could feel my face flush with heat. I definitely regretted coming here.

"Got all the blood off?" Dally questioned awkwardly in an attempt to crack the silence.

"Yeah," I muttered, casting my gaze to the ground. I was tempted to be sarcastic, but decided against it.

That seemed to do the trick, because someone stood from their seat on the ground to speak. I was absolutely horrified to find that this one was even taller than Dally - hell, I was only five feet tall.

"So you're the girl who was yellin' up a storm outside the drive-in?" he questioned bluntly, to which I offered a vague nod. "You okay?" Another nod. "I'm Darry."

With an awkward cough, I reached out a (still slightly trembling) hand for a handshake, to which he accepted. I immediately stuck my hands in my pockets afterwards. "Yeah, uh. Nice to meet you, Darry." I refused to specify my own name, however, and he seemed to notice. Great.

"So, you got a name?" Darry prompted, crossing his arms. All the boys sitting around the table were silent, watching the exchange interestedly. It probably was rare for new people to visit, considering what a small and dumpy town this was.

"Yes sir," I muttered, still not elaborating at all. It was probably a dangerous game on my part, yet I persisted.

With a steely nod, he relented. Thank god. It wasn't quiet for long, though. Someone on the floor piped up with yet another question.

"What're you even doing here?"

He was almost immediately cut off as Darry lightly cuffed him over the back of the head, scowling. "Shut up, Two-Bit. Don't be rude."

'Two-Bit' just furrowed his eyebrows in response but heeded the directions. Apparently Darry was some sort of a respected figure around here.

I answered, though, as to not seem cold. "Uh, my folks kicked me out a while back. So I've just been kinda walkin' around on my own."

A raven-haired, jittery-looking kid on the ground raised his eyebrows, dark gaze snapping up to stare at me with shock. "You've been on yer own? Hell, you're tiny, how've you made it?"

Darry didn't verbally chastise him, just cast a halfhearted glare in his direction. A blonde-haired boy beside him elbowed him in the ribs sharply, though. "Ow-! Quit it, Ponyboy," he hissed, voice hushed. Two-Bit? Ponyboy? What kind of names are these?

"I dunno," I mumbled awkwardly, fiddling with the miscellaneous contents of my jacket pockets. I always carried around a stock of bandaids, and a small switch just in case. I'd never think of using it, though. "I, uh, haven't really met anyone on the way 'till today."

The boy just nodded, silent for a moment before speaking again. "You a grease?"

"Yeah," I muttered in response. "Listen, I should.. Probably go. Thanks for letting me clean up and stuff, but I gotta go."

Dally scoffed. "What? Nobody's lookin' for you, kid. You don't have to go anywhere - where the hell would you go?" he question harshly, eliciting a small flinch from me. Ouch. Right for the throat.

Before I could open my mouth to give a dejected reply, Darry interjected. "Dally, you shut your mouth," he snapped. "You don't gotta be so damn rude all the time, got it?"

Dally just scowled, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette.

"It's fine, he's right," I pointed out soberly, furrowing my eyebrows slightly. He sure as hell wasn't wrong, and it was quite the stinging reminder.

"Listen, kid, you know you don't have anywhere to go 'cause you said so. Do you go to school?" Darry asked me.

I shook my head. "No sir. I dropped out after eighth grade."

He nodded curtly, looking around. "You're bedding down here tonight, then," he stated blatantly. He didn't even seem to give me a choice.

"Uh, i-it's fine, I can just.. Sleep in the train station. Like I usually do," I stammered out quickly, shifting.

"That's dangerous. You're bedding down here. I didn't send Dally to go 'n get you just to have you stride off 'n get yourself killed, got that?"

I faltered before replying. "I have a switchblade, so I can defend myself," I pointed out shakily.

"Oh, yeah? Show me, then."

I quickly fished the blade from my pocket, holding it out on my palm. He snatched it from me and flicked open the blade.

"Kid, this dinky little thing isn't gonna protect you from anyone," he snorted, shaking his head and giving it back. I stuck it back in my pocket, face flushed with embarrassment. "So you're staying here. Don't worry about it, either, you're not bein' a liability or anything."

The steely hospitality was rather disorienting and confusing, so I hesitated before shifting my gaze to the ground. "Fine," I mumbled awkwardly. "Thank you."

Darry nodded, pleased. Finally he sat back down, and Ponyboy spoke.

"So how old're you?" he prompted, eyes narrowed.

"Fifteen," I responded bleakly.

"What, I'm still the youngest?" Ponyboy interjected, voice a shrill whine. "You're way smaller than me 'n I'm still a year under you."

"I'm a year over you, then," Johnny snickered, ignoring Ponyboy's interruption. That elicited a bad natured scowl, but he didn't speak up.

"Quit being babies," Dally huffed, flicking ash from his cigarette carelessly to the ground. Darry gave an unimpressed hum, but didn't interject.

"Oh, yeah, you're one to talk, Dal. You ain't the oldest either," Two-Bit grumbled.

"Don't you get mouthy with me, Two-Bit. I'm seventeen. You're only a year over me, so shut your face."

"All of you kids can shut your faces, 'cause I'm twenty. I'm the oldest." Darry announced, grinning smugly.

I actually chuckled a little at the good natured debate, earning a surprised glance from Dally, which I ignored. He probably hadn't seen very many expressions of emotion from me, and that wasn't really all that surprising considering I had only just met these people.

"There you go," Two-Bit crowed, sneering. "Don't gotta be so uptight all the time, y'know?"

Instead of letting someone else chastise him before me, I quickly spoke. "I ain't uptight. I just met all of you, what, twenty minutes ago? I-I'm nervous, okay?"

That was most likely the longest thing I'd said since we'd arrived at Darry's, and I was both wary of how they would react and proud of myself for actually having to guts to legitimately speak.

"Aw, there's no need to be nervous," Two-Bit snickered in response, waving his hand dismissively.

"C'mon Two-Bit, quit pickin' on her," Johnny huffed, although it was clear he was amused himself.

"Nah, it's fine," I dismissed, voice still hardly more than a mumble. I was sort of more comfortable with actually talking now but it was still a bit nerve-wracking, much to my disdain.

"See? She don't care," Two-Bit scoffed.

"Okay, ladies, quit 'yer bickering," Dally interjected, arms crossed. "Kid, do you need to get anything? Any bags or something?"

I cringed at the nickname but didn't speak against it, instead offering a simple response. "Uh.. I think I dropped my bag back there. I can go get it though - can I?"

Dallas snorted with a swift shake of his head. "No chance in hell I'm letting you go alone, kiddo."

Finally, I dejectedly grumbled an objection to the nickname. "Don't call me that, okay?" I huffed. "And that's dumb. But fine."

That earned a hoot from Two-Bit. "Dang, this kid piped up real fast, didn't she?"

"Two-Bit, shut your trap," Ponyboy interjected with a goodnatured hit to Two-Bits shoulder. That was quickly retaliated as Two-Bit cuffed him over the back of the head lightly, grinning.

"Okay, okay. We're going," Dally announced loudly, raising his voice to be heard over the commotion before lightly grabbing me by the back of my jacket and ushering me back towards the door. I didn't persist, instead just smoothly walked alongside him, although the 'assistance' made my stomach turn with frustration.

Once we were back outside into the crisp, chilly air of autumn, Dally lead me back to where the incident had unfolded wordlessly. I dared not say a word to him because the way his eyes were blazing was a little bit scary to me, and the last thing I wanted was to to get decked in the face for mouthing off.

Sure enough, when we got there, there was my ratty messenger bag, laying on the ground. I breathed a clipped sigh of relief, scooping the bag up off the ground quickly and slinging it over my shoulder with a small wince. The thing was heavy as all hell.

Dallas stood where we had stopped, hands in his pockets, stance slouched. I could tell he was trying to look a bit menacing to the passerby, and it was working on me, at least - when I walked back over, my movements were cautious. Honestly, I didn't really like being around him too much at this point.

"I- I, uh.. I found it," I told him, stammering over my words. I hated that about myself. When I was nervous, I tripped over simple phrases and it was annoying for me and the other person.

"I can see that," he muttered, turning back around to lead me back towards the house blatantly. I opened my mouth to reply but decided against it, shoulders drooping a little as I followed suit back to the house I would be staying in for God knows how long.

Finally, he spoke up. "You got a job?"

I hesitated for a minute. The waitressing at the diner was a job, I got paid, but my spotty attendance often left me on the brink of unemployment, so I usually considered myself unemployed if asked. But I didn't dare lie to Dallas.

"..Yeah," I mumbled.

"Speak up, kid. Where?" he prompted, turning a gaze on me.

"The- The diner off the corner of Pleasant Street."

"Oh, right. That real glossy one where all the Socs hang out, right? God, that place is jacked."

"Yeah, I think so. I dunno, I'm not there a lot."

He simply shrugged in response, focusing his eyes back to the wet pavement ahead. They were like chips of ice - a pale blue that resembled the optic of a husky dog. It was scary; to me at least.

I fell silent as well, stomach twisting. Did I say something wrong? I didn't inquire or push a conversation, just followed quietly as we moved towards the house.

Upon arrival everyone perked up again, waiting for some sort of news. Guilty to bore them, I shrugged. "Found it," I muttered under my breath, shifting my gaze to the ground.

"Well, yeah, we can see that," Two-Bit pointed out, cracking an amused grin that made me want to up and goddamn hit him. Boy, he sure had a way of getting on my nerves, but I would simply put up with it; no matter how reluctant I was to admit it, I needed the housing bad.

I just let out a short huff and shrugged in response.

"What was that, mouthpiece? Speak up, can't hear you," Two-Bit joked, earning quite a few rolled eyes from the rest of the people. I felt my face heat up and I looked away, muttering an apology as I nervously swept my hair out of my eyes.

My hair was messily sheared short, ends curling over my ears and my bangs side swept and messy - I'd cut it myself with that dinky little switchblade. It'd hurt something fierce, and it took quite a while, but my hair had been too long. When it had started to give people advantage in fights, I knew it had to go.

"Aw, come on. I'm just playing," he snickered as Ponyboy nudged him with an elbow, hissing something about how he should just shut his trap.

I began to gradually regret my choices to accept the hospitality as I stood there, face flushed from the teasing.

Well, this was gonna be interesting.


End file.
